


A Gift From East of the Rhine

by einfach_mich



Category: Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-03 01:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/einfach_mich/pseuds/einfach_mich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasir buys an intriguing slave from East of the Rhine. (see note with original prompt)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift From East of the Rhine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sharingiscaring](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sharingiscaring).



> Written for the Spartacus Kink Meme hosted by the Spartacus2010 LiveJournal community.
> 
> Prompt: Nasir/Agron, Nasir on top, AU Nasir was never captured by the romans and instead grew up the prodigal son of a wealthy syrian family that had sided with the Romans. Agron isn't brought to Rome but Damascus instead.

Dark, coal lined eyes study him with amusement. Agron stifles a growl and attempts to keep his gaze fixed on the stone wall before him. Soft hand press against his bare chest, caressing with surprising gentility. Such contact seems strange coming from the same arrogant little shit who had purchased him at the market.

_“Is this all you have to offer today Lucius?” The boy complained while waving a brightly colored fan in front of his face._

_“Apologize, but this is the best I could obtain,” the sweat-covered slaver bowed and scraped as if he were addressing a prince. “Shipments have become unreliable of late.”_

_The boy lowered the fan, sighing dramatically and stepped forward to look at the slaves standing before him. Agron was not sure what to make of this little peacock in front of him. His hair hung past his narrow waist, braided with ribbons and gold. Robes of silk draped over his small frame, their colors matching that of the fan clutched in his ring covered fingers. He looked like a rich man's whore._

_“This one looks to be the least ugly,” the boys voice drew Agron's attention and he quickly realized he was the subject of the boy's comment._

_Agron raised his eyes to look into the face of the boy and was unsettled by the unearthly beauty he beheld. Dark eyes fixed upon him, appraising him. The German did not care for the slight sneer that raised the corner of the boys plump lips. His own treacherous mind flashed the image of those same lips swollen with use, wrapped around his hard cock._

_“Yes and he is very...healthy as you can see,” the slaver chuckled and gestured toward the erection tenting the front of Agron's loincloth._

_“I suppose it is of an adequate size,” the boy replied with a bored expression and shrugged._

_Heat filled Agron's face, causing his mouth to open before his good sense could stop it. “Adequate enough to fill your fucking mouth!”_

_The whip rose in the air and Agron braced himself for its stinging kiss, but it never came. A ring covered hand held the slavers wrist in a tight grip, while those same dark eyes fixed on the German again. The expression on the boy's face was unreadable, but the determination in his voice when he spoke again was unmistakable. “I will take him and if any harm comes to him before he reaches my villa I will see it mirrored upon your own skin.”_

_Without further word the boy took his leave. Agron watched his new master walk away through the crowded market, the sea of people parting way before him without word, as if he truly was a prince or perhaps a god. His silken robes danced behind him, while the gold and jewels in his hair sparkled in this sunlight. For a moment, Agron wondered if he truly were a god._

The German takes in breath to banish the memory from thoughts and refocus his mind. His master was no god, only the spoiled son of a wealthy merchant. Agron a mere trifle purchased for the brat to celebrate the boy reaching manhood. It was a humiliation that the German was not sure he could bare. To be a plaything for a child...a pet in the house of a fucking Syrian. What had he done to the gods to deserve such a fate?

“Why do you scowl so?” The boy asks, his fingers taking hold of Agron's chin and forcing him to look down into the boy's eyes. “Does something displease you?”

“No, Dominus,” Agron sighs, his eyes favoring the ground over the beauty of his master.

“Look at me!” The boy tightens his grip on the German's chin and shakes his head for emphasis.

Agron's eyes snap back to the boys face, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a gesture that could never be mistaken for a smile. The boy meets the German's angry gaze, a fire burning behind his own eyes as he steps closer to the larger man. Despite the disparity in their size the intensity and strength in the smaller man's gaze seems to holds Agron captive.

“Answer me,” the boy whispers, sliding his soft hand around the back of the larger man's neck and pulls him down so their faces are but inches apart. “Why are your displeased?”

“I do not wish to be a whore,” Agron speaks the words reluctantly, ignoring the small voice deep in his mind that calls him a lying cunt.

The boy smiles, white teeth cut a stark contrast to his dark skin and making the small voice in Agron's mind laugh even harder at his own foolish pride.

“You are no whore,” the boy reassures him, sliding his fingers under Agron's collar and tugging him even closer. “After all, whores get paid.”

Agron is unable to stifle the growl of rage that flies from his lips, but it is quickly covered by the boys mouth. Skillful tongue lavishes the German's mouth with attention he has never known before. When the boy finally pulls away, Agron is left with the taste of wine and honey upon his tongue.

The German stares at the crimson stains upon the boy's lips, remnants of the celebration that had filled the villa hours earlier. Agron can still remember watching the boy floating among the guests, gifting them with smiles and clever words, a cup of wine ever at the ready to wet his lips. Few could resists the boy's charms and many flocked to his side to drink in his presence with relish.

Those dark eyes study Agron for a long silent moment, as if he can see the thoughts within the German's mind. Despite his youth and delicate stature, wisdom lie within the depths of the boy's gaze. Agron is shaken by the sight of it, feeling out of his depth and strangely naked before this beautiful boy.

“Cease empty protest and come to bed,” the boy says giving Agron's lips one last teasing lick before walking away.

Agron swallows, the seductive flavor of the boys mouth slipping down his throat to burn like an ember in his belly. The skill of the boy's mouth and his beauty is beginning to have as heady effect upon the German as any wine, leaving him dizzy and strangely giddy to comply with his master's orders.

He turns to watch the boy slowly disrobe and crawl, naked onto the large pillow-covered bed. The boy lies down, stretching out like a languid feline upon the piles of silk. His tongue darts out to slide over his lips, while his gaze fixes upon Agron.

“Why do you not move?” The hint of amusement returns to the boy's gaze and spurns Agron's defiance back to the life. “Are you afraid of me?”

Agron's jaw tightens in frustration, but he begins to a few tentative steps toward the bed. His body tenses with each step. Knowledge of what awaits him drawing him in, while dread of how it will debase him slices like an icy thread through his soul. How could he want this?

As if in answer to his silent inquiry, the boy reaches out and takes how of his loincloth, tugging it free from Agron's body with a hard yank. The German stands bare before the boys eyes, naked save his collar. Humiliation should be burning inside him, but as he gazes down into the lust-filled smile of his master all Agron can summon is an answering grin, equal in desire.

His cock is hard, rising to salute his master. As if every part of his body accepts this boy commands against the German's will. When petal soft lips finally slide over Agron's heated flesh, sheathing his cock in wet heat the German can no longer remember why he ever resisted.

Skillful tongue dances over Agron's cock with astounding agility. Leaving the well muscled man breathless and trembling on unsteady legs. At the moment when the delectable torture pushes Agron to the very edge of pleasure the boy release his cock from his mouth.

“Have you ever had a man inside you?” The boy rises up to face the German, his lips glistening in the lamp light.

“Yes,” Agron confesses with a hiss and is rewarded with a wide smile from his eager master.

“Did you like it?” The smaller man begins to pepper Agron's chest with light kisses and drawing pattens upon his heated skin with wet tongue.

“Yes,” it was barely a whisper, but the boy heard it and hummed in response.

“Lay on the bed,” the command in his tone was clear and Agron obeys without hesitation.

A strange sort of relief overtakes him as he climbs upon the bed, taking his position upon hands and knees. His still hard cock hanging heavy between his legs, he wonders if he will be giving leave to see to his own pleasure as the boy rides him.

“No,” the boy scolds in a gentle tone, taking hold of Agron's hips and turning him over. “Upon your back, so I may see you.”

“Oh,” Agron mumbles, confusion making his movements clumsy while he moves to lay upon his back.

It feels awkward to laid out this way, legs spread before the dark-skinned god and made to offer himself for the taking like some maiden upon her wedding night. Agron grimaces at the thought, turning his head to gaze at the stone wall.

A hand touches his cheek, urging him to return his gaze to his master and he reluctantly complies. Those dark eyes fix upon him and he feels the weigh of the boy's gaze like a marble slab upon his chest. It stifles his breath and leaves him confused.

“I would have your eyes upon me always,” the boy's word send a strange thrill through him, but he does not show their effects outwardly.

Oiled fingers slide between his legs, while the boy leans forward seeking another kiss and Agron welcomes the distraction. Their tongues entangle, while the boy eases his fingers inside the larger man and gently prepares him.

The boy is patient, taking time and care to ready Agron. His fingers proving as skilled as his tongue. Soon enough the German is breathless and moving against the boy's hand, greedy for the sparks of pleasure that come with each thrust.

“Do you crave more?” The boy whispers against Agron's trembling lips.

“Yes,” The German groans, shifting his hips and sinking down further upon the boy's fingers.

“Speak desire and see it brought to life,” the boy says with a smirk, his teeth catching on the German's stubbled chin.

“Put cock in fucking ass!” Agron rises up to grasp the back of the boy's neck and pulls him down into a violent kiss.

The larger man demands with teeth and tongue, leaving his master's mouth bruised, but smiling. Agron's fervor is met with equal enthusiasm and passion. The boy's hand tangles in Agron's short hair, making a fist to yank at the roots and drive a roar from the German's mouth.

“I shall happily oblige,” the boy laughs and presses his cock into Agron.

“Fucking Gratitude!” The German groans, tilting hips to grant easier passage for the boy to sink inside him to the hilt and they both make a strangled sound of unified satisfaction.

The boy swallows and his cock twitches inside the larger man's body, making both gasp softly. They slowly close the distance between them foreheads touching in a gesture that seems far more inmate. Their movements are slow at first, the boy's hip shifting at a steady pace and Agron's own body lifting to meet each thrust with greedy enthusiasm.

He cannot resist the explosive pleasure that reverberates through him with each stroke of the boy's cock within him. It is overwhelming his every sense, drowning him in intense euphoria and leaving him drunk on the feel of the boy's body. The pace quickens and the boy's thrusts deepen, each one rattling Agron's entire body and leaving him wondering from where this small man was summoning his strength.

“Look at me,” the boy's voice is shaky, but clearly heard by Agron through the haze of his own lust.

Agron gazes up at into the boy's dark eyes and is captivated by the sight of his little master. The boy is sweat drenched and flushed with pleasure. His dark skin rosy from exertion, but his eyes are the most marvelous sight to be hold. The darkness has lifted by lamp light and a wide, genuine smile. Golden brown eyes stare at Agron, while a petal soft hand cradles the side of his face.

“I would have you finish with me inside you,” the breathless command sounds closer to a plea, but Agron is beyond caring.

His body quickly answers his master with a spine shattering climax. Agron erupts into a ear splitting shout, his native tongue slipping from his mouth and declaring the very gods to be shit eating bastards. He quickly hears the boy's own cry of pleasure, signaling his end and both collapse onto the bed in a panting heap of sweaty flesh. Agron relaxes into the silken embrace of the sheets, his body is slick with sweat and his own seed, but he cares not for any of it. He is sated for the moment, mind blessedly silent and content from pleasurable release.

The boy slips free of his body and moves away from the bed. He returns with damp cloth and a cup of wine, which Agron accepts with glee. The German is surprised to find his master carefully cleaning him, but makes no move to stop the boy. Choosing instead to gulp down the sweet wine and savor this moment of luxury.

After the cloth is disposed the boy returns to the bed with his own cup of wine in hand. A playful smile spreads across his swollen lips as he stares at the German.

“Where do you come from?” The boy sips his wine, bright eyes fixed in a curious expression.

“My lands lay East of the Rhine,” Agron replies, gazing into his cup a sober expression upon his face.

Thoughts of his family and homeland chase away the pleasure from his body and mind. Reminding him of the weight of the collar at his throat and that the man before him is his master. Unpleasant thoughts make the wine bitter to his tongue and he quickly set it down upon the floor.

“Shall I take my leave, Dominus?” He rises on slightly shaky legs, but straighten his back, unwilling to show how the boy has affected his body.

“Wait!” The boy was at his side, soft hands upon his chest. “Stay with me, here.”

He gestured toward the bed. Agron sighs, but obeys, climbing in the bed and lays down beside the boy. The German lies still while the boy leans his head upon the larger man's chest and wraps his arm around Agron's waist. While the feel of the boy's embrace seems intimate and almost loving, Agron reminds himself that the gesture is one of possesivness. Not unlike how a child would clutch a favorite toy or beloved pet. After all that is all he is, a slave whose purpose is to amuse the boy and warm his bed.

“What is your name?” The boy yawns and rubs his cheek against Agron's chest.

“My people called me Agron,” the German replies stiffly.

“Agron,” the boy says the name like he is trying out the feel of it upon his tongue. “It suits you.”

“Gratitude, Dominus,” Agron utters the only response his troubled mind can summon.

“Enough with that,” the boy grumbles and shifts closer to Agron's body. “When we are alone you will call me Nasir.”

Confused, Agron shifts slightly to gaze down at the boy only to find his eyes are already closed in slumber. His exhaustion forgotten, the German stares at the strange and beautiful creature lying beside him and wonders what the future will hold for them.


End file.
